


the word of your body

by Anonymous



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Regency, Arranged Marriage, Friends With Benefits, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Oral Sex, Pining, Premarital Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “You wish for me to teach you how to pleasure an omega by allowing you to seduce me?” Yuuri clarifies.Victor swallows, heart thrumming against his chest. “If you will allow it.”“…What would the matter of our accord be if I let you seduce me?” Yuuri then asks. “Our families are expecting us to be promised to others eventually. Do you wish to ignore that?”Victor has ignored it since the moment he propositioned Yuuri at the party. Maybe even longer than that.——a friends with benefits au: badly written regency edition





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> not beta’d

To be quite honest, Victor’s never seen an omega’s cunt with his own eyes.

He’s heard talk about it; of _course_ he’s heard talk about it. It’s quite a favorable topic among the alphas of high society, or at least the crowd Victor subjugates himself to for afternoon tea and evening gatherings at Christophe’s parlor. Cao Bin was bragging to their crowd recently on how he brought the omega heir of the Kensington household to a state of impropriety, their cunt gushing slick with each of his ‘powerful, well-timed and well-skilled thrusts’ as they cried and begged for more and _more_.

Victor’s not sure how much of that is fact from fallacy; he’s known Bin since they were young lads, and is also aware of a time whence Bin stuck his cock in the hollow of a tree on a dare and could not free himself no matter how ‘well-skilled’ and ‘well-timed’ his thrashing and wriggling and floundering about were.

Leroy likened them to supple peaches with the sweetest juice to lave your tongue over. Lord Chadwick spoke of how it’s the color that does it; a ruddy cocklet and pink folds swollen with heat and desire for him is enough to bring him to hardness. They go at it and laugh and jeer at each other's experiences, all the while Victor stands off to the side and quietly sups on his glass of brandy, watching and listening.

The alphas of the ton liken an omega to something that is best experienced when it is devoured whole.

Katsuki Yuuri, on the other hand, is something else entirely different.

* * *

“You’re staring.”

Victor coughs into the side of his fist, a flush of heat on his skin that he cannot even blame on the glasses of brandy he’d been previous supping on. He supposes if he were to look away from the sight of Yuuri stretched out on the chaise — his evening gown and bloomers carefully folded on the footstool beside their glasses of brandy and his chemise pulled up to his stomach — the burning in his cheeks would not be as ardent.

But he cannot seem to tear away his eyes as he watches Yuuri slide off his garter and stockings, made of such a sheer silk that Yuuri might has well have gone without them. It is the first time Victor thinks he has seen Yuuri’s bare skin. His first time seeing Yuuri’s naked well-turned ankles.

And, well of course, as Yuuri relaxes into the chaise’s embroidered pillow and spreads his legs, the first time Victor’s seen the rose flush of Yuuri’s sex.

“You’re—“ Victor swallows a choke of arousal, “you just…look beautiful.”

Yuuri does not respond verbally, only burrowing his hands tightly into the fabric of his chemise as he looks up at Victor expectantly through the black fan of his eyelashes.

The humdrum of the evening party is all but a dull noise through the parlor’s locked doors. It was a miracle that he and Yuuri were even able to slip out of the dining room unnoticed, though his mother most surely will be looking for he if he is gone for too long, and Victor cannot fathom the scandal that will arise were his mother be the one to find him between the legs of his childhood friend.

Would she be angry? Furious? She’s grown fond of Yuuri and his family from their visits to the Katsuki’s inn during the spring months, but Victor would be a fool to believe his mother would not sooner cut off her hand that wears her most favored diamond ring if it were going to the well bred omega that allows Victor to take their hand in marriage.

Victor is supposed to be flitting from each guest of high society the way a bee flitters from flower to flower. Not here. Not kneeling down onto the chaise as he would when he is about to pray. The sight of Yuuri beneath him surely is a heavenly vision, and the scent of arousal that wafts in Victor’s nose as he draws his face closer to the wet thatch of dark curls is _divine_.

“You’re dripping,” Victor murmurs, breath warm against the tip of Yuuri’s erect cocklet leaking with slick. He takes hold of Yuuri’s soft thighs, his thumbs digging into the scent glands along the inner part, and spreads Yuuri further open until his mouth _waters_ at how the lips of Yuuri’s cunt gape.

“Will you _please_ not say such vulgar things aloud?” Yuuri asks. Though Victor isn’t looking, he is sure Yuuri is speaking through his palms covering his face. “I can’t believe I allowed you to coerce me into this—“

“Do you not want to?” Victor asks, suddenly worried. He rises his head, but Yuuri’s hands suddenly find themselves tangled in Victor’s hair, forcing him back down.

“Just—“ Yuuri sounds quite abashed, and his hold in Victor’s hair becomes tender, his pinky rubbing along the shell of Victor’s left ear. “Just…be quick. Before someone comes looking for us.”

The sigh that shudders out past Victor’s lips is hot and wet against Yuuri’s sex, before he closes his eyes and brings his mouth towards bliss.

It is only five minutes that pass till Yuuri’s hand in Victor’s hair is gripping tight to pull his head up from where Victor had been clumsily running his tongue up and down, _up_ and _down_. “You’re — you’re horrid at this,” Yuuri says, astonishment interlaced within his words. He closes his thighs and sits up on the chaise. “You’ve honestly _never_ —“

“I haven’t.” Victor knows he shouldn’t feel as offended. Despite the licentious crowd he associates with, he has never been the kind of alpha that indulged in the pastime of a well-bought fuck. But there is a harsh stab of embarrassment that comes by the way Yuuri brings his hand to his mouth and hides his laughter behind his gloved fingers. “I’m sure I couldn’t have been _that_ bad—“

“Your skill with your tongue was beginning to remind me of Vicchan’s greeting kisses.” Yuuri further urges Victor away, reaching for his stockings to roll on. The parlor room air still smells of a debauched omega, even though Victor did not get far in the debauching. Like honey and sugar crusted over, like all of Victor’s favorite things combined.

“Chadwick made it sound like it were simple,” Victor mumbles under his breath. He thinks to rise up from the chaise to allow Yuuri some small sense of privacy, but the stiffness of his cock in his trousers only reminds him that he surely looks just as undignified and shameful as his companion.

Yuuri’s scoff is charged with malice. “And what would an alpha like _Lord Chadwick_ know about pleasing an omega? From what you’ve told me, he sounds like the kind of alpha that believes an omega should only have pleasure from being swole with their alpha’s get.” The furrow of Yuuri’s dark eyebrows should not be as cute as they are, especially since Yuuri still has yet to put on his underwear. “He sounds like the type of alpha that father keeps inviting to call on me.”

Victor adjusts his cravat, suddenly finding it troublesome to breathe.

“You’re…still on the market, then?”

“For the time being. Father thinks that it is time I should be married, though I do believe it is my aunt nagging in his ear of how much of a hopeless waste I am that has him truly vexed.” Yuuri’s knees wobble as he stands to put on his bloomers, and Victor tries to not focus on how a drip of slick falls on the wooden floor between Yuuri’s feet. “I’ll most likely be back in Hasetsu by the end of fall with my godmother. She mentioned in her last letter a fish merchant is looking for a spouse for his son.”

Victor sincerely wishes such a time never comes to fruition.

“Could you help with my dress?” Yuuri asks, looking over his bare shoulder, the strap of his chemise askew. Victor rouses himself to his feet, only hoping that his own arousal is not apparent. From the way Yuuri wrinkles his nose — most likely smelling Victor’s want rolling off the alpha’s body in waves — Victor assumes otherwise.

“We should perhaps wait to return to the party,” Yuuri says, quite skilled at keeping his eyes from wandering below Victor’s belt, then hands Victor his dress to assist. “Maybe a stroll around the lake to air ourselves. I’ve been wanting to feed the ducks for a while anyways.”

Yuuri’s dress is a soft and silky powdered blue; slipping through Victor’s fingers like air. He wonders what it would have been like were he the one to strip Yuuri of his clothing, maybe even with his mouth and his lips grazing against where that lace collar obscures Yuuri’s unbitten neck.

“You’re _staring_ ,” Yuuri addresses, softness in his moue.

“Sorry, sorry,” Victor says, and swallows his want.

* * *

“You were gone some time, my friend,” Bin decides to goad the next evening. Victor honestly has no idea why he even bothered to show up to the gathering; he’s been clinging to the side of Christophe’s bookcase since he arrived and is now looking for an opportune moment to flee.

The smirk of the alpha’s lips is obnoxious, the others around him in same good humor with glasses of whiskey being passed about. Bin was nursing the bottle the entire evening; it seems not only is the alpha’s filled with hooch, but of vulgarities as well. “I’ve heard an interesting dit that you and Katsuki were slinking out of that parlor that stank like the backend of a whorehouse.”

“You _would_ be quite familiar with the scent, wouldn’t you?” Victor says with a smile that cuts sharp. Bin withers from the tone, but he puffs his chest and swallows another gulp of drink down.

“Our virginal Nikiforov wouldn’t think to do something so untoward as ravishing Mr. Katsuki,” Chadwick feels the need to chime in, and Victor _greatly_ does not want the likes of him protesting his innocence. “Besides, Mr. Katsuki is just as big of a prude as he is. Do you _really_ think he’d give himself in the midst of a party just a few steps away?”

If Victor weren’t decent, he’d spit that just because Yuuri is reserved in the presence of others, that he speaks with a softened tone and prefers to hide away in the recluse of Victor’s library rather than the noise of a party, does not at all mean he is prudish.

They don’t know how Yuuri’s eyes spark with light when faced with something that stimulates him more than the average blather that floats through the town. They don’t know the wit of Yuuri’s jokes, or the crassness he is capable of when he is in a space to not mull over problems of the past, or of now, or of tomorrow and all the days that come after.

They don’t know Yuuri like Victor knows Yuuri.

“It’s always the prudish ones that are the most fun to make a whore,” a scraggily bearded alpha chortles from his corner of the room, and the others erupt into drunken hoots and hollers and clumsily knock their glasses against each others’.

Victor is sure the cacophony of noise only bolsters when he turns sharply on the heels of his boots and leaves the parlor room without another word.

And even if it did, frankly, he doesn’t give a damn.

* * *

Katsuki Yuuri is not a virgin.

It is some beta that has the honor of coveting Yuuri’s virginity when Yuuri were only seventeen, some lad by the name of Phichit Chulanont. Victor’s never met him — apparently he lives in a countryside town north of Hasetsu — and no one knows of the act aside from Yuuri, Phichit, and well, now Victor.

Despite that, something feral and stupid inside Victor’s gut can’t help but to hate Phichit just a smidge.

“Did you enjoy it?” Victor asks Yuuri, turning the croquet mallet between his hands. Yuuri looks up from where he were previously lining up his shot, the summer breeze making the tulles and ruffles of his seafoam green dress billow wildly.

“Why does it matter to you if I did?”

Victor tries to appear nonchalant as he shrugs. “I wanted to know just how I could improve in comparison to him.”

“Shouldn’t you put your efforts towards pleasuring the omega that will marry you instead of me?” Yuuri stands straight, adjusts his grip of his mallet and knocks the ball in a scatter shot.

“How would I know I am good at pleasuring an omega _at all_ , let alone the one my mother will inevitably force onto me?”

“I’m sure your good friends Cao Bin and Lord Chadwick can find a haypenny whore for you to practice on.”

Victor’s laugh is dry.

They play through a few rounds as the sun beats down upon them. Yuuri’s bonnet is somewhere on their picnic blanket abandoned, and the mud from a previous night of rainfall stains the bottom tulle of his dress.

As Victor goes to take his turn, Yuuri suddenly hitches up his dress to bat away a light caking of dirt. For some reason, Victor’s mouth waters at the slight glimpse of Yuuri’s legs in sheer pantyhose, mind wandering to how they would feel against the tips of his fingers, if they would easily rip if he dug the blunt of his nails ever so.

“Would you ever let me do it again?” Victor asks instead of hitting the ball.

Yuuri looks at Victor with wide eyes and scarlet cheeks. “You want to do it _again?_ ”

“I want to get better at it.” Victor licks his lips, mouth tasting sweet. _I want to get better at pleasuring **you** ,_ he thinks, but doesn’t voice aloud.

Yuuri lowers his dress, busying his twitching hands by taking fistfuls of the garment. “…I do not wish for your prospects to be ruined were someone to find out about us fooling around,” he mutters. The sweep of his eyelashes is mildly distraught; he begins to bite at his lower lip as he thinks and frets.

Victor abandons his shot and approaches Yuuri, standing within only a few centimeters of him. An unsettled aroma wafts off Yuuri’s nervous form, smelling sour and unpleasant. Victor doesn’t dare to touch him; from all his years of knowing Yuuri, he knows that now it is best to let Yuuri work through whatever muddle of thoughts he has until he opens himself to hear anything else.

They stand in the field as the wind blows and the trees sway. When the scent dampens, Yuuri looks at Victor straight in the eye. “You wish for me to teach you how to pleasure an omega by allowing you to seduce me?” Yuuri clarifies.

Victor swallows, heart thrumming against his chest. “If you will allow it.”

“…What would the matter of our accord be if I let you seduce me?” Yuuri then asks. “Our families are expecting us to be promised to others. Do you wish to ignore that?”

Victor has ignored it since the moment he propositioned Yuuri at the party. Maybe even longer than that.

“We are not promised to others yet,” Victor points out. “And no one will know of us fooling around as friends. No one _has_ to know.” His mother would turn red if she heard the blasphemy her son is speaking. Cao Bin and the others would snicker and chortle in their abrasive gaiety. And Yuuri…

Yuuri would be ruined for any other alpha if the news that he — an unwed and unmarked omega — would just willingly give himself to an alpha without even the promise of marriage.

(Victor _would_ promise to marry Yuuri, though. He’d promise the stars for Yuuri, the sun and everything its light touches, the moon and its gentle glow, he’d give them all if Yuuri were to only ask.)

Yuuri goes back to thinking. His scent is softer, sweeter. Victor feels his hand twitch at his side in a desire to brush a stray lock of hair that blew out of alignment, but he staves the urge.

“…So, until one or the other has been made an offer of marriage,” Yuuri starts, voice barely a whisper in the close space between he and Victor, “I suppose we can have these...arrangements.”

It’s a bold statement. Victor sees the tips of Yuuri’s ears burn hotly red shortly after declaring it, and he cannot fight away the urge to smile.

“Are you sure?” Victor asks, eyes taking a serious note. “I do not wish to coerce you into doing something you truly do not want—“

“I would feel too much guilt knowing were an omega to have you, they’d be levy to your subpar tongue.”

“ _Subpar?_ ”

“In comparison to Phichit.”

Victor knows Yuuri is ribbing him, but he still falls for the bait.

“How did he do it then? Is there some technique to it? Do I use my lips more?” Victor asks in rapid succession as Yuuri wanders away towards his set of crochet balls.

“You haven’t even taken your turn yet, have you?” Yuuri asks, hiding his smile behind his gloved hand. “Yuko packed us warm croissants fresh from the oven. They’ll be cold by the time we finish our game.”

“ _Yuuuurii_ ,” Victor whines, pout on his lips. Yuuri laughs, and the sound carries to Victor’s ears like a song. He wants to covet it. He wants to covet Yuuri and the sunlight that basks upon his form, the smile that hides behind dainty gloved hands and the dress that Victor wants to have caressed over the flat of his palms.

But for now, he covets the dream of Yuuri as his and his only, holds it tight in his chest and locks it away to think on when he is alone and his mind goes wandering to that sweetened scent of honey and sugar crusted over.


	2. Chapter 2

It is but only three days after their salacious agreement that Victor asks in a low whisper, “May I place my mouth on you?”

Yuuri’s eyes grow to the size of Victor’s grandmother’s finest saucers, cheeks a scandalous shade of pink.

“My _father_ is _right there_ ,” he hisses behind the white of his paper fan. After a brief reprise, Victor gestures with the oars that are firmly grasped in his clutches to his right.

“He is also in another boat,” Victor informs.

It is a surprising rarity that they spend time on the waters of the lake. Yuuri’s only been fond of it from the shore, where he could stretch out on a blanket and dote over the family of ducklings he has taken upon himself to care for. The uneasy ebb and rock of a boat, frankly, makes Victor nauseous. And in hollow of his heart, he concedes that in his yearning, he is no better than his dog as he follows Yuuri wherever the omega chooses to wander.

However, Mr. Katsuki is in town for a brief visit before his business takes him further north to the city, and was the one that suggested they take a boat and unwind on the water in a small bout of fishing.

Yuuri’s invitation to join them had been purely innocuous. It is only Victor that let perverse thoughts wander freely off the tip of his wanting tongue.

The omega glances at his father, knitting his eyebrows as he does so. “I know my father is exhausted from his business, but he’ll _surely_ notice you ducking down between my thighs.”

“I can be discreet.”

“You do not have the prowess to be discreet, Kind Sir.”

...Yuuri may be _partially_ correct there. Victor’s body is twitching in arousal at the thought of hiding just beneath the canary yellow of Yuuri’s skirt, feeling Yuuri’s sex flutter against Victor’s tongue as he laps at the slick.

He wants to be able to pull a gasp from Yuuri’s pink mouth with only his tongue alone, and in his eager ambition, Victor fears he might even capsize the boat were he given the opportunity.

Yuuri begins to fan the air of Victor’s pheromones, frowning as he squeezes his thighs tightly together in resistance. “You’re becoming just as bad as the ton,” Yuuri distastefully sighs. “Speaking of which, Cao Bin called on me yesterday.”

Victor’s arousal evaporates. “He _what?_ ”

“He called on me,” Yuuri repeats. “At my aunt’s request.”

“What did he say to you? Did he say something crass? Something vulgar?” Victor questions in rapid succession.

“He said nothing untoward me. He was quite the gentleman, in fact. My aunt is thinking of inviting him for Wednesday’s supper.”

“Then I shall be there as well.”

“You know she despises you,” Yuuri murmurs, perplexed. It is another truth that comes from Yuuri’s lips; Victor hasn’t the faintest idea why the alpha woman abhors him so. He has been nothing but hospitable to her and her beautiful nephew in his more than frequent visits to the Katsuki household, and in turn, she regards him with as much deference as one would give a cockroach in the piss-smelling streets of London.

“I do not care,” Victor says, turning the angle of the boat when Yuuri raises his fan to block the sun’s rays. “He’s a weasel that knows how to hide his ribald ways. I will only be there to make sure he doesn’t do anything crass.”

“Like prodding my cunt with his tongue as you did?” Yuuri bluntly asks, the flutter of his eyelashes unfairly anodyne.

A pause. “I did _not_ —“ Victor wildly checks over his shoulder; Mr. Katsuki is in the midst of casting his line out further where the lake’s water take on a shade of iridescent blue green — “I wasn’t _prodding_.”

“You were.” Yuuri lowers his fan and wildly waggles his tongue. It’s an obscene sight, but the laughter that chases after the gesture, and the pink hue that arises in Yuuri’s cheeks causes something to stir in Victor’s stomach. It is not a feeling of lust or desire to ravish the omega right here and now, rickety boat be damned.

It’s breathless wonder. It’s pure delight.

“Your stables tonight,” Yuuri whispers in an aside when they return to shore. Mr. Katsuki had caught a pike and enthusiastically invited Victor to return for dinner to enjoy it. At Mr. Katsuki’s side, Yuuri’s aunt looked as though she would rather _he_ be the one filleted. “Wait for me there.”

Victor wishes to take Yuuri’s gloved hand and kiss it in departure, but Yuuri’s aunt comes to collect Yuuri when the space between them is only a sliver, a sharp twang of bolstered alpha pheromones squarely punching Victor in the face.

“Come come, you need a bath,” she coos, running her fingers through his hair. “And why have you not brought your bonnet? The sun will make your skin all _spotty_ and what well-respecting alpha will—“ her voice dithers away as she and the other Katsuki’s take their leave towards their estate.

Victor watches the flutter of Yuuri’s skirt as he leaves, until it disappears behind steel iron gates and becomes a ghost in Victor’s memory he yearns to feel thread between his fingers.

* * *

Victor heads to the stables immediately after he leaves the Katsuki household after dinner. He would have lingered longer, maybe even roused a song on the Katsuki’s harpsichord tucked in the corner of the study, for he always adored it when Yuuri sang a tune to a melody he played. But…

“Yuuri has some calls he must tend to,” Yuuri’s aunt had said through clenched teeth as she rushed Victor out of the dining room and onto the porch the mere _second_ his plate was clean of seared pike and steamed vegetables. “It is best you be on your way! Ta-ta!”

Ah, no matter.

He busies himself in the time before Yuuri’s arrival by properly setting the mood. The stables…are not at all romantic. Neither was his parlor room, but at least there was a chaise to lie Yuuri upon instead of this bed of itchy straw Victor futilely throws together.

Should he have brought something to drink? He can see that the windows of his home are dark aside from the servant’s quarters on the first floor. His mother is only expecting that he has gone out to play cards and will be back before the morning, so he cannot sneak back inside to abscond with a bottle of their finest wine and two flutes without one of the maids hearing him bumbling about.

…But wine _would_ help the ambiance a tad bit.

He pushes the pile of hay to the wall away from where his mother’s appaloosas flick away the flies with the swish of their long tails. Would this suffice? Should he fetch a blanket? Should he suggest to move somewhere else? He _should_ find a lantern; the moonlight that gleams through the stable’s frosted glass windows is barely enough for Victor to see two inches in front of his own face.

Halfway through his task, the wooden doors of the stable open with a shrill shriek. Victor halts, arms clutching a bale against his front, and holds his breath.

“…What on Earth are you doing?” Yuuri’s voice floats from the silhouette that peers inside.

Victor looks to the bale of hay in his hands, then to the mound of hay he intends to debauch Yuuri in.

“I was—“ Victor drops the bale on the ground, tips of his ears burning in sheepishness. “Nevermind. Come inside, it’s cold.”

Yuuri does.

They find an oil lantern and Victor strikes a match to set it alight, tucking it carefully in the corner of an empty stable. It will not last more than an hour, Victor thinks as he judges the weak flame burning from within. Wisps of shadows dance along the wooden walls from the gentle flickering, and as Victor turns, Yuuri lets the blanket he had tangled around his lithe figure fall to the wayside.

“Ah,” Victor says, swallowing. “You’re undressed.”

The neckline of Yuuri’s nightgown is cut in such a way that exposes the line of his collarbone, the floral lace pattern so thin that Victor can see the stiff peaks of Yuuri’s nipples. It’s a midnight shade of blue, beautiful against Yuuri’s bare skin.

“Would it not make sense for me to be undressed?” Yuuri asks, head in a bemused tilt. He carefully sets himself down on the blanket, Victor falling to his knees beside him shortly after.

“I wanted to undress you,” Victor confesses, smelling the scent of Yuuri’s arousal through the stench of the hay and horses around them. Cautious, he brings a hand to the gown and rubs his hand along the curve of Yuuri’s thigh, marveling at how soft the silk feels.

Yuuri has never been one that fancied the elegance of frills and lace of high propriety fashion. He can only assume this must be a gift from his aunt, intended for the alpha Yuuri brings to bed on the night of their wedding to let unfurl beneath their hand.

Victor breath comes choked from his lips. The sting of the night air is cold, but Victor’s mouth is a desert.

“Wait,” Victor says when Yuuri readies to pull his nightgown up, digging his fingers harshly into the silk of the nightgown. He pulls it up Yuuri’s body slowly. He revels in how the fabric drags against Yuuri’s bare legs, up his plush thighs that have a sweet wetness smeared over them, till he has the gown pulled up over the soft plane of Yuuri’s stomach.

Yuuri’s legs part themselves and Victor moves in between them. “…You’ve trimmed,” Victor says, tone flummoxed.

“…Yes?”

“Why?”

“ _Why?_ ” Yuuri pushes himself up by his elbows, cheeks stained scarlet. “I — because it was unsightly? Why are you even _asking_ me such a thing—“

“I found you looked lovely.” Not that Yuuri doesn’t look lovely now in the flicker of the lantern’s light, but the thought of a word as ‘unsightly’ or anything synonymous with it being attributed to the visage of the omega beneath Victor is a foolhardy one indeed.

Yuuri closes his thighs, bringing his hands to his face. “You are utterly shameful,” he bemoans into his open palms.

Victor spreads them back open and watches the trickle of slick leak from the tip of Yuuri’s cocklet. “That will be our secret then,” he says, voice husked with arousal, before he drops his face down and licks a stripe directly up the center where Yuuri is sopping wet.

He licks into Yuuri’s cunt slowly, savoring it, opening Yuuri’s legs wider so he may slip his tongue inside and feel the slick heat of Yuuri’s walls clench around him to draw him further in. His hands roam up and down Yuuri’s thighs, massaging the scent glands and feeling fire bloom beneath the skirt of his palm.

Yuuri’s hands wander to Victor’s hair, gently massaging his scalp. His sighs that float from his mouth sound as though he is melting; from the way slick gushes each time Victor laves his tongue through Yuuri’s folds, drenching his chin, Victor believes the omega might be.

Outside, the willow trees scrape alongside the stable’s walls from the night’s wind. Yuuri shivers in Victor’s hold, but Victor cannot tell if it is due to the chill of the night or his ministrations between Yuuri’s wet thighs. Victor hasn’t even undone his coat or his cravat; his white trousers are undoubtedly covered in dust and dirt from the stable’s floor. He tries to be careful as to not get them stained the more wet Yuuri becomes, not wanting to deal with his maid’s questioning eyes if he were to get them soiled with an omega’s slick.

Time is lost on Victor when he is between Yuuri’s thighs, and it isn’t until Victor feels a gentle tug at his hair that he finally lifts his head, a sudden ache in his jaw.

“What is it?”

“I’m getting bored,” Yuuri answers.

“ _Bored?_ ”

“You’ve had your mouth on the same spot for the last ten minutes.”

“Where else would I put my mouth on?” Victor asks, not allowing permission for the hysterics to warble in his throat. “Am I _truly_ that awful that you’ve become bored with my mouth?”

“You’ve improved from before,” Yuuri assures. Then, quietly, softer than the scraping of the willow trees outside, he whispers, “and you have more than your mouth, Victor.”

Oh.

Well then. Bollocks to preserving his clothes.

They switch positions as the flicker of light begins to dim; Victor feels Yuuri’s warmth settling on top of him, the silk of his nightgown moving against Victor’s heated body like a gentle caress before Yuuri once again hitches the garment up. There is a fleeting touch along the front of Victor’s trousers, the quiet _pop_ of a button, and a murmur of apologies, before there are slim fingers taking hold of Victor’s cock and he _hisses_ through his teeth.

“I do not wish to tumble you tonight,” Yuuri says, smearing the wetness of Victor’s cock with his thumb, before letting it flop against Victor’s stomach and his still buttoned waistcoat. He lowers his hips, the underside of Victor’s cock sliding through Yuuri’s wet folds and oh, _oh, oh_.

Victor does not know which is more obscene, the wetness of Yuuri’s sex against Victor’s cock as he undulates his hips, soaking Victor’s trousers as it drips down his legs, or the sound of Yuuri fighting to keep his wanton gasps down in his hiccuping chest. Victor’s eyes do not know where to look. His hands don’t know where to touch. His mouth — gracious, his jaw has gone so slack he’s shocked he hasn’t choked on a fly. But he does choke on Yuuri’s scent as it saturates the walls, the floors, the air, until it is all Victor can desperately gasp down, all he wants and craves and ah, _ah_ , **_ah!_**

Yuuri smiles down at him, eyes like molten honey in the yellow flicker of the oil lamp’s light, a flush of pink in his cheeks and his bangs cling to his sweating forehead. He takes one hand away from where he holds his nightgown up and brings it to Victor’s neck, and with the edge of his thumb, presses directly into Victor’s mating gland.

Victor howls, absolutely _wild_ , and lets the fire in his chest go ablaze.

“I didn’t bring you off,” Victor says in the dark after he's caught his breath, which is an embarrassing stretch of time till he does. He's had an orgasm before, but one brought about by his tightly clenched fist and depraved fantasies of Yuuri that haunted him in the darkest hours of night, pale in comparison to actually feeling Yuuri throbbing against him, wet and just as wanting.

His voice is a faint growl in his throat, his eyes absorbing the mystifying beauty of his seed dripping over Yuuri’s pink cunt, lips swollen with arousal and erect cocklet leaking profusely. “Please let me. You may sit yourself on my tongue and I will gladly try again to pleasure you.”

“We've had troubles with our vegetable garden recently. My aunt suspects it to be some pest, and has been waking in the odd hours of the night in her efforts to catch it. I fear she might see the lantern's light were we to linger here any further.” Yuuri lets his nightgown fall to hide his ruddied sex, smoothing the wrinkles with the flat of his hand. “It is of no bother to me, Victor, truthfully.”

“It is to me,” Victor grouses. “And we shall move somewhere else then. We have a blanket.”

“If you cannot bring me off in the lantern’s light, I fret you will not be able to in pitch darkness, Kind Sir.” He pulls the blanket from the ground and bats away the hay that clings to it, before pulling it around his shoulders tightly. “Furthermore, it is dreadfully cold.”

“You can wear my coat then.”

“I shan’t return to my home smelling as if I’ve been underneath an alpha,” Yuuri rebuffs, and it as though a spark of realization has set itself aflame in Yuuri's mind the moment the word leaves his tongue, for he looks down at Victor's ruined trousers and waistcoat and stifles his gasp. “You can't return to your home like this. Your mother - she’ll —“

“I will dispose of them before she awakens. The stench of an aroused omega would not be enough to rouse her from her sleep if I pass her chambers,” Victor assures. His eyes wander down to where Yuuri's tightly closed thighs are hidden beneath the thick blanket. Is he still dripping, Victor wonders, and runs his tongue over the bottom of his lip for any remnants of that sweetened taste.

“Will you walk me to my window?” Yuuri asks, putting on his slippers.

Dutifully, Victor nods.

* * *

Their walk diverts through the small thicket of woods that encircle their homes. It is a path that takes them through where the moonlight can barely ghost its shine through the bend of the willow branches, but is not in the open where the shadowy figure wandering through the Katsuki’s vegetable garden — a lantern aloft in their grasp — can see them.

“Would you let me tumble you?” Victor asks, then when the look of astonishment graces Yuuri's features, is quick to add, “Not now, but some other time.”

“No.”

“Ah.”

Yuuri squeezes Victor's arm against his chest. “Not because I don't...I’ve never lied with an alpha,” Yuuri fumbles, adamant at keeping his eyes from looking into Victor's intrigued ones. “And as I felt myself against you tonight, I was surprised at how...endowed you are.”

“Ah.” Victor is grateful for the darkness, for he is grinning like an idiot. “But I would not hurt you. You know that, don't you?”

“Of course. But I am still hesitant.”

They go for only a few steps forward, till Yuuri halts them beside a moss covered rock, hand tight in the sleeve of Victor's coat. “Before we move any further,” Yuuri starts, quiet in the way he speaks, “I believe we should establish some sort of...rules for our arrangement.”

“Rules?” Victor faces Yuuri, brows knitting tight. “I thought our rule was that when either of us has a prospect of marriage, we’d cease our fooling around.” And truthfully, Victor doesn't even want _that_ limitation. His mother is relentless in her search for a well-bred omega, and Yuuri's aunt is just as eager. Cao Bin could propose to marry Yuuri tomorrow for all of what Victor knows, and Victor would be banished to his chambers where all he has is his hand and the wanting of what could have been.

Yuuri draws close to Victor, bringing a hand to Victor's neck to thumb along the side of his mating gland. “Why are you distressed?” Yuuri asks, careful with his touch so as not to scent, “I did not say I will not see you again. I just believe that we should...be cautious.”

Victor wishes to kiss the inner part of Yuuri's wrist, relaxing beneath the omega’s hand with a heady sigh. “Cautious how?”

“We promised we will cease these relations when we have our prospects, but tonight made me fear that we may...lose our sensibilities.” Yuuri's eyes are soft, and his voice is gentle. “We must remember that this isn't to last...I just feel that a set of rules would help keep us in order.”

A dark, feral part of Victor wishes to pull open Yuuri's blanket, tear that beautiful nightgown to shreds, and cease all talk of keeping their sensibilities and take what he desires so. The urge is stoked the longer Yuuri's thumb circles Victor's mating gland, so he quickly pulls away from Yuuri's touch as to regain control.

Yuuri frowns. “If you are not willing to respect that—“

“N-No, no. I will,” Victor quickly chokes out. His trousers are half open from Yuuri's accidental tear of his button, and his cock is half-erect beneath the open seam. “What do you propose, Mr. Katsuki? I will adhere to whatever it is you wish.”

Yuuri pulls the blanket tight around his body, flashing a glimpse of his well-turned ankles.

“You may not tumble me. I have never had an alpha just as you have never had an omega. We’ll know our bodies well, but that aspect should be reserved only for the ones we intend to marry,” he professes.

“As you wish.”

“You may not scent me and vice versa.”

“Of course.”

“...We shall not treat each other any differently. I do not want our friendship to change due to our fooling around.” Narrowing his eyes, Yuuri furthers, “Which means that neither of us should become wild with jealousy if we are called on.”

“‘Tis a good thing I am not a jealous type.”

“Then you will not be inviting yourself to supper when Cao Bin comes?”

Victor's smile is terse. “...I shall remain at home and read.”

Yuuri steps closer to Victor. Tentatively, he brings his hand to Victor’s chest, pressing against where Victor’s heart is a steady drum against his palm.

“Lastly...our mouths must not know each other as lovers.” Yuuri whispers this as if he is the most frightened of this aspect in of itself. “We shall not kiss, and we shall not say anything foolish, in or out of the throes of passion, no matter what.”

“Foolish like what?” Victor asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Do not feign ignorance. I’m wholly serious about this,” Yuuri reprimands, voice a shaky warble. “If either of us break these rules, then we must cease our relations at once.”

“Yuuri—“

“ _Promise me,_ Victor.” Yuuri's demand is pained. “Promise me this. We can't disappoint our families for temporary pleasures.”

Victor does not want it to be temporary. He wants it to be everlasting.

A gleam of moonlight escapes through the willow branches as they part from the sway of the night wind. Yuuri’s face becomes starlight in its glow, unbearably beautiful and untouchable at once. “Promise me,” he repeats, and as the branches bend under the wind’s billow, Victor does the same under the shine of Yuuri’s eyes.

“…I promise, Yuuri.” His throat constricts, forcing a foolish phrase back down to sit in his gut. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the overwhelming response!! as you may have seen, the chapter count is gone hahaha. I am not planning for this to be more than ten chapters, and hopefully the chapters will be much longer after this. consider these two combined like, a prologue of some sorts?? idk but thank you sosoSO much for all of the kudos and the wonderful comments they really make me happy to see thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

“Mother? You are…fond of Mr. Katsuki, are you not?”

In the rays of sunlight that come gleaming through the partially drawn curtains of their parlor room, Victor’s mother does not even spare him a glance away from her knitting.

“Who?”

There is a dreadful ache in Victor’s hand from penning three letters and four cards, but he does not bring it to massage the vein at his temple. “Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor further clarifies. “The boy I’ve played with as a child? When we visited Hasetsu and stayed at that cozy little inn you liked? He lives with his aunt in the household across the lake.”

The furrow of his mother’s brows is disconcerting. “Oh. Him.” She begins a new row, lips drawn in a thin line as she thinks, before they suddenly part and ask, “Why are you mentioning him, Dear?”

“He is an omega,” Victor points out, tone inclining towards his subtle want. His fingertips begin to drum against the surface of his desk, a rhythmic _tap-tap-tap_.

“He is not a _proper_ omega.”

“Because his family _earned_ their wealth instead of having it handed down from generation to generation does not at all imbrue him of his propriety, Mother.”

Victor’s mother has a miscellany of laughs. There is the one she uses in the presence of other omegas that is warm and gentle, there is one she uses in the presence of the alphas of the Ton that is refined and gently rakes up their vertebrae whenever she laughs at any little noise that comes from their mouths.

This laugh that she gives Victor is a laugh Victor has enough experience with to discern from the others. This laugh — closed curved lips, half-lidded eyes — is animus and every bit as asinine as a laugh an _improper_ omega would let come from their mouth.

“How does someone from the _lower class_ know anything at all about propriety?” Victor’s mother questions with a cynical laugh, returning her focus back to her knitting. “I’ve seen how that alpha aunt of his dresses him for our morning socials. She thinks just because she dresses him in the most brightest, expensive and _gaudiest_ of clothing, some alpha will come with prospects of marriage. I’m sure he is as sweet of a boy as when he were a child, but in comparison to myself and the other omegas of high society, he just _simply_ won’t do.”

Victor remembers Yuuri once complaining to him once about the omega socials his aunt twists his arm into going, something about feeling out the other omegas in high society and discern between those that threaten Yuuri’s chances of obtaining a suitable mate, and those pitiful ones that Yuuri _must_ be better than. Granted, Yuuri bemoaned this to Victor as he settled between the alpha’s spread thighs in the darkness of the stables, moonlight Yuuri’s only guide as he undid Victor’s trousers and wrapped his hand around Victor’s aching girth.

Yuuri hadn’t even put his mouth on Victor during the act, but just the softness of Yuuri’s skin against his flesh and how tenderly Yuuri’s fingers felt as the omega moved his wrist up and down in languid strokes was enough for Victor to not hear much of anything else other than his labored breathing and Yuuri’s teasing of his name with his kittenish smile.

“Victor!”

The biting reprimand is enough to violently startle Victor from his daydream of pleasure’s past. His knee clangs against the underside of his writing desk, the loud noise spooking Makkachin who was asleep by the leg of his chair.

Victor’s mother looks at him with an expression that is sorely unimpressed. “You haven’t properly answered my question, Dear. _Why_ are you asking if I’m fond of Mr. Katsuki?”

Victor’s hand goes from nervously tapping on the surface of his desk to nervously tapping along the curve of his tender knee. “I thought that since he was in the market for a spouse—“

“No.” Her mother’s voice is sharp ice, the silver of her hair sparkling in the rays of the sun. “You will not court him. You are too good for him. There are other omegas, _better_ omegas. Ones that know the proper way how to speak, how to dress, how to _walk_ —“

“What’s wrong with his _walk_? Of all the things to be peculiar about—“

“He _walks_ too loosely,” his mother criticizes, narrowing his eyes. “ _You_ wouldn’t find anything wrong with it, what with you being an alpha. How he moves his hips as he walks, like he’s trying to entice someone, like he’s already done some _salacious_ activity is just—“ she huffs, clicking her tongue against her teeth, before she resumes her knitting, “—no more talk about this. As a friend from your childhood, I know I cannot separate you. But hold him at arm’s length, Dear.”

Her gaze becomes especially sharp as she then adds, “And do not allow him to sway you with that walk of his.”

Though Victor does not know what is the first thing that made him become so enamored with Yuuri, or even if it was one particular thing that succeeded another and not madly falling in love with Yuuri as a whole right from the very start, he keeps his scoff of being swayed by a _walk_ hidden behind his pursed lips.

* * *

“I see why you’re entranced by Katsuki.”

Victor does not wish to look up from his hand of cards, but Cao Bin refuses to keep his mouth shut, as per the usual. “He was quiet as usual, yes," the alpha continues, voice a low and hungry growl that comes from the back of his throat, "but in the intimacy of Ms. Katsuki’s parlor room, there was _something_ about him that made gooseflesh of my skin.”

Lord Chadwick gives a hearty chuckle. “He’s a pretty little thing. Rather unfortunate his attitude sours it,” he adds, before shaking his head disdainfully at his cards. “I fold.”

“You always fold,” Christophe chides at his side, before raising the bet. Beside him, another alpha folds his hand with a discouraged grumble. “Mr. Katsuki is entertaining company. I’ve spoken with him on occasion, and Alain is fond of him.”

“It was his scent, I think,” Bin blurts, rubbing at his chin. “I’ve never smelt an omega like that before. He smells like honey and chamomile, maybe with just a hint of sugar.” A lecherous grin stretches over his face. “I wonder if he tastes like it.”

 _He does_ , a crass beast in Victor’s chest wishes to force his tongue to speak aloud, but he twists his lips further and matches Christophe’s bet, instead of becoming infuriated with Cao Bin’s irritating cheekiness.

“So you’re courting him?” Chadwick inquires.

“Ms. Katsuki wishes me to. I’ve yet to receive a call from Katsuki after my visit, but I’m certain that I will see him again.”

“How certain?”

“She’s ready to throw him at any alpha that is fat in their pockets, if I were to be frank,” Bin crows with a laugh. Victor’s teeth grate against each other harshly.

“Pardon if my memory may be shot, but didn’t you once propose the idea of Mr. Katsuki being a prudish and dull omega?” Christophe pipes, eyes wandering from Bin and to Victor. His mouth is hidden by the fan of his cards, so Victor has no clue as to what the full expression Christophe is making, but it is surely one of intrigue and fully of concern. “I’m sure your opinion of him could not have changed within one night.”

“It hasn’t. As sweet smelling and supple-looking as he may be up close, he is still quite a drab to be around in my opinion,” Bin says with a sigh. Then, he smiles. “But as our companion once said, it is always the prudish ones that are the most fun to make a whore of.”

Victor doesn’t mean to slam his cards on the poker table so roughly, but his hand sounds like a cannon fired. He turns with his entire body, eyes wild and teeth barred. “If you intend to court Yuuri,” he spits, hackles aroused as he stands to his feet to tower over Bin, “I never want to hear something as atrocious as that come from your mouth about him _again_.”

Christophe immediately rises to his feet the same time that Bin leaps up from his own chair. Bin is shorter than Victor, has always been the shortest of their group. But he puffs his chest as though he were three heads taller than Victor, angling his chin and snarling.

“Okay, that’s enough--“ Christophe wraps a hand around Victor’s shoulders, forcing the two apart when Victor only wants to charge forward and _fight_. He succeeds in getting Victor out the doorway of the study they were playing at, and it is another alpha that is fast enough to shut the door behind them before Cao Bin can come charging after and demand recompense.

“That bastard,” Victor hisses through his clenched teeth when Christophe gets him to the veranda, and the cool night air causes the pulses beneath his flesh to simmer into a dull buzz.

“He’s an idiot. It isn’t the first time he’s spoken crassly, my friend,” Christophe says with an eyebrow raised. “Why now the sudden defense?”

Victor bristles. “Is it so hard to believe that I do not wish to know of Cao Bin sticking his cock in someone? _Especially_ if that someone is a close friend of mine that I cherish deeply?”

“Is Mr. Katsuki _only_ a friend to you?”

Victor has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the ‘ _no_ ’ from leaping off his tongue.

“Mr. Katsuki is smart. I’m sure he’s seen through Bin’s ruse of gentility and will not call on him any further, if that is some solace to you,” Christophe chides.

“But his aunt will find others. Others that only see Mr. Katsuki as some sack of meat to be ravaged and not seeing him or appreciating all of his qualities—“

“—In the way that _you_ do?” Christophe’s eyes are pleading. “My friend, this farce has gone on for too long. If you ask his parents if they would allow permission to marry, I’m sure they wouldn’t refuse.”

“I don’t--“ The frown on Christophe’s lips dare for Victor to finish his meek protest of his feelings for the omega. It chases them back down Victor’s throat and into his gut where they stew for a few moments, before he murmurs instead, “I don’t think he feels the same way for me as I do for him.”

“Thinking is different from knowing.”

“Fine then. I _know_ I’m terrified to confess how I feel only for him to reject my feelings,” Victor professes. The truth doesn’t sting as much as he thought it would, though his face burns from being wholly embarrassed.

“It never hurts to try, my friend. If your heart yearns for him, there is no shame for allowing its musings to be heard.” Christophe’s smile then turns coy, jutting a thumb back over his shoulder. “Or do you plan on attacking every alpha that thinks of even _breathing_ in Mr. Katsuki’s direction?”

Victor bites his lip. The burn in his cheeks stings even more.

“I - I apologize for my behavior—“

“It’s alright. I know you abhor these gatherings of mine—“

“I don’t mean to offend you,” Victor tries to interject, but Christophe claps a firm hand on his shoulder.

“It is _alright_ ,” Christophe stresses. The hand moves from Victor’s shoulder to rub tender circles between his tensed shoulder blades. “Go home and relax, my friend.”

“But your game—“

“I was going to win your money with or without your outburst,” Christophe laughs, and the sound carves a bit of the edge from Victor’s nerves, just enough that he feels the corners of his mouth quirking up to form a smile and laugh of his own. “Go home,” Christophe says, and his voice is soft.

With a slow nod, Victor obliges.

* * *

On Thursday, Yuuri invites Victor for a picnic. Victor’s mother watches him depart from the top of the stairs, and tries to ignore the way her eyes bore into the back of his skull when he is greeted with Yuuri’s smiling face and bright eyes.

“You’re wearing your bonnet?” Victor points out when they’ve wandered onto a path that strays from where they normally walk. Yuuri sighs, already undoing the ribbon beneath his chin.

“My aunt forced me into it just before I left. She thinks I am to be on a picnic with an omega acquaintance in the park, and thought I should look presentable for any possible alpha I may cross on my way,” Yuuri explains, reliving himself of the garment and tucking it into the picnic basket he carries on his arm. Victor didn’t think to bring much other than a bottle of wine and glasses; the scent of food that wafts every so often into his nose makes his stomach turn with hunger and mouth salivate with want.

They stop at the base of a tree and Yuuri unfurls the picnic blanket before carefully setting himself down and begins to unpack. “Do you care for a sandwich first? Or perhaps some fruit?”

“Whatever you have is fine with me,” Victor says, sitting himself close at Yuuri’s side.

There’s a moment of quiet between them as Yuuri gathers the food and utensils needed, but the silence is pleasant. It’s comfortable, at least to Victor. There’s something serene about how the wind feels against his cheek and how it looks when sifting through the dark locks of Yuuri’s hair, or how it makes the ribbons sewed at the hem of his skirt flutter and furl about.

“You’re always staring at me,” Yuuri points out without even looking up from his hands as he takes the last few pieces of bread and apple from the basket.

“I can’t help myself being drawn to such a splendid sight,” Victor blurts without thinking. Yuuri looks at him, surprised. Then, he lowers his gaze.

“You should alleviate that problem of yours. I’m sure your spouse would not like it if you allowed your eyes to wander,” he murmurs. Victor’s hand stutters on his thigh, before it shakily goes to clutch a fistful of Yuuri’s skirt.

“Must we speak of disappointing spouses that do not yet exist?” Victor asks. His voice is a shaky whisper. His voice wishes to not even speak of a thought that he would have eyes for anyone but the omega that is so close and so far out of his reach. Victor’s hand curves around Yuuri’s thigh in a slow caress, and the flutter of Yuuri’s eyelashes is accompanied with a sudden blossomed scent of sugar and honey.

“I just…want us to remember—“

“And I wish for us to forget,” Victor exclaims. “When I am with you, I do not want to think about future prospects.”

“You’re saying something foolish,” Yuuri warns. Victor bites his tongue as his heart rattles wildly in the cage of his chest. _Tell him_. _Tell him something_ ** _truly_** _foolish._

Victor’s hand slides away from the softness of Yuuri’s skirt, the blunt of his nails forcefully digging into the meat of his palm as he returns it back to his own thigh. He doesn’t say anything in rebuttal, head turned away and lips at war with his heart and the fears in the back of his mind.

The silence lost its comfort. Now, it’s daunting. It weighs too heavily on Victor’s shoulders.

“…Would you like some?” A pastry comes to Victor’s lips, offered by Yuuri’s hand. The omega isn’t looking at Victor, though when Victor turns his head, he sees the red tinting the tips of Yuuri’s ears.

Victor bites into it, tasting warm apple chunks slathered with a cinnamon glaze. “It’s good,” he mumbles in between chews, grabbing the bottle of wine to pour themselves a glass. His heart is still angrily thumping against his chest, urging for Victor to allow it to be heard.

He only stifles it with a gulp of his drink, and lets the alcohol numb the pulse beneath his skin.

“Cao Bin spoke something horrible about you one night,” Victor mumbles, half slurred against his arm from where he is sprawled out on the picnic blanket. Yuuri has his book in his lap, some poetry book that has surely been read countless times by how weathered and beaten the cover of it looks.

“And what was that?”

“He wishes to make a whore out of you,” Victor says, and his blood boils from repeating that disgusting remark. “He boasted it, like it was some sort of _challenge_.”

“And how did you respond?” Yuuri asks, looking over the top of his book with eyes that are enticing. Victor smacks his lips of the last remnants of wine, and his hand wanders over to Yuuri’s skirt to pitifully clutch at.

“Angrily. Furiously. My stomach churns from merely _remembering_ that smug look on his face—“

“You promised me you wouldn’t become jealous of prospects—“

“It was not out of jealousy that caused me to react,” Victor defends. “It was out of my wish to protect your honor and dignity.” His hand in Yuuri’s skirt moves slowly up and down Yuuri’s warm thigh, his eyes glazing over as he marvels at the wrinkles his fingers create. “You are no whore.”

“I’m not?” Yuuri’s voice is humored. “But I’ve spread my legs for you on different occasions. I’m sure the Ton would have labeled me a ‘whore’ were they cognizant of it.”

Victor rouses to a sitting position, his brow furrowed. “You _are not_ a whore.”

Yuuri rests his book to the side, before he wraps his slim, gloved fingers around Victor’s wrist.

“...Does it bother you?” Yuuri asks, thumbing against Victor’s pulse. “That I’m not a virgin? That I did not protest when you asked me to spread my legs in your parlor room?” He smiles, and the curve of his lips is dour. “You do not need to be so valiant in arguing for my virtue, Victor. If Cao Bin thinks he can make a whore of me, whatever _that_ may entail, let him have his fantasies. I know what I am.”

With Yuuri’s other hand, he brings it to Victor’s neck and rubs his thumb against Victor’s neck, circling his mating gland. The alpha in Victor keens from the touch, submissively lying back down on the blanket as Yuuri easily throws one leg over Victor’s lap to straddle him.

Yuuri smiles at Victor. “You alphas are so easy to satisfy,” he tuts.

“Only by you,” Victor says in response, still feeling a buzz in his system and his cock stirring in his trousers. “I will only be satisfied with you.”

There is a moment where the veneer falters, and Yuuri’s skin flushes pink and his eyes sparkle with something meaningful.

“You’re talking foolish again,” Yuuri says with a grumble, lifting his hips to undo the front of Victor’s trousers where his cock is half-hard and throbbing. “Perhaps I should give your mouth something else to say.”

Yuuri has Victor before he can choke out a word of protest, in his gentle grip that works up and down Victor's length, before slipping Victor between his stocking clad thighs where he rubs against Yuuri’s sex that weeps for a cock Victor _desperately_ wants to give. He says a lot of things against the shell of Yuuri’s ear as the grind messily together, the remnants of their picnic abandoned and scattering as they bend and arch in a rhythmic waltz. Most of them are growled between tightly clenched teeth, or into Yuuri’s hair when the temptation to bite Yuuri’s bare neck starts to overwhelm.

None of them are the words his heart wanted to speak.

“My aunt will be leaving town in a few days for her rut,” Yuuri mentions to Victor long after their activity. He’s been spending the last few minutes making himself look as presentable as when he left, but the stockings are quite ruined beneath the wrinkles of his petticoat and skirt.

Victor’s trousers are stained with Yuuri’s slick and his release, another article of clothing he’ll have to hand wash personally so as to not allow the maids to let on to what he’s been up to. “Oh?”

“Don’t get excited. She has refused me any visitors from alphas. Not until she returns back.”

“What if my visit is purely innocuous?”

“Our recent outings have been _far_ from innocuous, Kind Sir.”

“I did nothing licentious to you on our horseback ride last week,” Victor says in protest. Yuuri laughs a beautiful laugh, curling a lock of hair behind his ear.

“But were you thinking of doing it?”

“Contrary to popular opinion, not _all_ alphas think only about sex,” Victor says with a feigned ‘humph!’. He allows Yuuri to pull him to his feet, then gathers the soiled blanket to fold up. “If I only enjoyed you because of our ‘activities’, then I’d be treating you no better than one would treat a whore.”

“No, you’d be treating me worse than one. I could have earned enough to buy some more books were I to charge you like a whore would,” Yuuri bemoans.

“What is it you want? I’ll happily purchase it—“

“Tis a jape, Victor. I don’t wish for you to purchase me anything.”

“Even if I wanted to? Not as some payment, but because I enjoy buying you things?”

The befuddled moue of Yuuri’s lips is darling. Victor wants to feel it shape against his own mouth.

“You’re getting _very_ loose with your tongue, Victor,” Yuuri says, and that warning tone is back in his voice again. Victor dryly chuckles, casting his eyes to the ground.

“Perhaps I am…perhaps this arrangement of ours made me feel more _free_ to speak what is on my mind whenever I am in your presence.”

“…Then perhaps maybe we should stop—“

“No.” Victor grabs Yuuri’s hand, and Yuuri jumps in surprise. “No. I don’t want for us to stop.”

“I told you before that I don’t want to ruin your prospects. I’m…I’m not the kind of omega that an alpha wants for marriage,” Yuuri murmurs. Though he once was tense under Victor’s touch, Yuuri slowly relaxes and lets out a sigh. “My aunt is persistent, but I doubt I will have any proposals soon.”

“…Then…then what if I were to—“

“I don’t want your pity—“

“It _isn't_ out of pity,” Victor hisses, and Yuuri tenses in his grip once more. “I’ve…I can ask your parents for permission to court you, can I not?”

“My aunt and your mother would never agree to it—“

“Your aunt would despise me even if all I wanted to do with you was hold your hand. I am not aiming to please her,” Victor says strongly. His thumb begins to rub over the inner part of Yuuri’s wrist, just over his scent gland. “And I will…deal with my mother when that time comes. But I - I want to court you, Yuuri. I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t be allowed to court you _properly_.”

“But I’m _not_ proper. Victor, you’re—“

“No. It’s foolish to think that I care whether high society considers you a 'proper omega' or not. I’m not telling you what I _think_ I want or what’s best for me. I’m telling you what I _know_ I want. And I want this. Or, at least, I want us to try.”

Yuuri isn’t looking at him. He smells conflicted, troubled. Victor partially thinks about releasing his hand, but he continues to rub circles into Yuuri’s scent gland, in that same way Yuuri would touch his neck and soothe Victor by running his finger along the mating gland against his neck.

“…Please allow me to write to them and ask,” Victor whispers.

The wind rustles the trees. Victor waits for a sound from the omega’s lips.

“…I don’t want you to regret this,” Yuuri murmurs, shaking his head. “I don’t want to ruin things for you—“

“You won’t. You’ll never.” Victor can’t fight the urge, and he brings Yuuri’s wrist to his mouth to kiss the skin. The scent of honey and sugar saturates the air in an instant, warm heat beneath Yuuri’s skin rising as Victor lets his mouth linger until Yuuri has to be the one to pull his hand free.

“…I’ll give you the address tomorrow evening,” Yuuri says in the softest of tones. “But…don’t get your spirits raised. My aunt has clout over my father, and my mother hates to dissent.”

“I’ll send as many letters as I can,” Victor urges. “I’m not afraid to beg.”

Yuuri hums. “It’s rather frightening that I can wholly believe that sentiment when it comes from you.”

Victor pinches Yuuri’s nose. “Cheeky,” he goads. Yuuri reaches to pull at Victor’s nose as well, and they both laugh and tease the other as they begin on their walk back towards their respective estates, arm in arm and steps in perfect synchronization.

As they approach the Katsuki household, Victor suddenly speaks, “I do not feel bothered by you not being a virgin.”

Yuuri pauses, looking up at Victor with confused eyes. “Hmm?”

“When you asked me if I felt bothered by you not being a virgin. I’m not. Nor am I bothered by how comfortable you are in your own sexual prowess. I - I _very much_ like it.”

Yuuri’s skin flushes to that of a ripened tomato. “Why must you say such embarrassing things?” he groans behind his fingers. Victor continues on.

“The only thing I am bothered by is that I’ve yet to make you orgasm—“

“I _have_.”

“But from your own ministrations! _I_ want to be the one that makes you wet—“ Yuuri’s hands slam themselves over Victor’s mouth when a curtain in the first story window gets drawn back. A maid peers out at them, eyebrow raised and lips pursed in intrigue.

“If I tell you to come to my room tomorrow evening, when my aunt is away and the maids are sleeping, will you turn around and go back to your home _quietly?_ ” Yuuri sharply whispers. Victor glances at the window. The maid quickly disappears back behind the curtain, presumably to run and tell Ms. Katsuki of what is occurring just outside her front door.

He quickly nods his head. Yuuri pulls his hands away and takes the soiled blanket from Victor to stuff in his basket.

“I’ll…I’ll show you…how to make me—“ Yuuri is too red in the face to say much of anything else. And though Victor _does_ like the Yuuri that is sensual and skilled as he rubs his sex against Victor’s erection, or when he swallows Victor down his throat with frightening ease, Victor also likes this flustered and painfully shy Yuuri with the fluttering eyelashes and the nervous biting of his soft, bottom lip.

He loves every facet of Yuuri.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to bring himself to stop.

“Oh good! You’re home!” Victor’s mother comes running to him as Victor is already a third of the way up the stairs. “I have news!”

“Please allow me to change, Mother. I’ve accidentally spilled some of the wine on my trousers and would like to take a bath.” He hopes the scent of alcohol is enough to mask the faint smell of Yuuri’s past arousal on his person. Since his mother isn’t forcibly twisting his wrist and screeching about _who_ is that smell on him, Victor assumes it must be working.

“Oh, but this is _really_ important!”

“Can’t it wait until dinner?”

“But it will be too late then!”

Victor turns to look over his shoulder at his mother’s ecstatic smile and brightened eyes, suspicion in his brow. “What is it? What will be ‘too late’ that it cannot wait until supper?”

She clasps her hands together and breathes, “I found him! I’ve found your _perfect_ fiancé!”

Victor, in that split second, forgets how to breathe entirely.


	4. Chapter 4

Guang Hong Ji is only eighteen years old. He smells like daffodils and fresh lavender.

“It is _so_ wonderful we were able to have you and your darling son for supper, Lady Ji. Isn’t it _wonderful_ , Vitya?” Victor’s mother giggles behind the porcelain rim of her tea cup. They’ve long since finished their dinner and have retired to the parlor room for conversation. Or at least, it is Victor’s mother and Lady Ji that babble and giggle and coo their compliments. Guang-Hong and Victor have remained silent for the entirety of the night.

He’s scrawnier than Yuuri, with freckles stark against the bare sliver of pale skin Victor’s eyes are allowed to see. His clothing is more extravagant than Yuuri’s, dozens and dozens of bows and ribbons and pearls that make Guang-Hong look like a porcelain doll that can easily break if mistreated. Victor _supposes_ the boy is cute, and the alpha within him is pleased by the flowery scent Guang-Hong emits every so often the young omega catches Victor inspecting his person. But it dulls in comparison to the blaze that sets itself alight in his core when Victor looks at Yuuri, when his eyes drift along the sinuous curves of Yuuri’s body that he wishes to explore with his tongue, when Victor hears Yuuri sigh from his touch and he can _taste_ honey and sugar melting in his mouth.

“It is _our_ pleasure really,” Lady Ji says with a smile. “I’m so happy to have heard from you, Katerina. It’s been _such_ a long time!”

“Yes, yes! Why, last I’ve seen you, Guang-Hong didn’t even present yet! But, you’ve done _so well_ with his upbringing. He’s such a darling boy, don’t you think so, Vitya?”

Shaken from his lecherous thoughts, Victor jolts with a startled blush. “Oh. Uh. Yes, I suppose.”

Victor’s mother narrows her eyes sharply, smile terse. Ah, perhaps that wasn’t as enthusiastic as a response as she'd hoped.

The omega women chat well into the night, and Victor is forced to remain at Guang-Hong’s side for the duration of it. Clearly, as a proper omega should, Guang-Hong does not at all intend to initiate conversation with an alpha unless given permission to do so. And Victor, well, he truly only speaks with Yuuri and no other omegas. He doesn’t even _know_ what omegas talk about or what they busy themselves with in their spare time, since he sincerely doubts the average omega enjoys shooting, gambling and cricket as much as Yuuri does.

He _definitely_ can’t talk with Guang-Hong the same nature of crass topics he and Yuuri rib each other with.

Victor not so subtly looks to Makkachin, who is currently snoozing on her cushion. “I should take Makkachin out one last time before we retire for the evening,” he, rising up to his feet and briskly walking to fetch his poodle.

“I had one of the girls take her out earlier,” Victor’s mother says, and Victor does not even need to look over his shoulder to know that with that sharpened tone, his mother is surely regarding him with a look of frustration.

“Yes, but she should go out one more time. Fresh air is good for her,” Victor blathers, coaxing the poodle to her feet. Makkachin is reluctant to move far from her pillow, moving to lie down on the floor or rest up against the doorframe. Victor doesn’t want to _look_ desperate in his escape of the parlor room, but no doubt if he results to carrying Makkachin out, his mother will be livid.

“Perhaps Guang-Hong can accompany you,” Lady Ji suggests. At this, Guang-Hong gives a swallow that is audible. The scent of daffodils arise once more as the omega stands, carefully smoothing out the few wrinkles of his dress with gloved hands.

Guang-Hong bows his head, hands folded in front of him. Victor bites the inside of his cheek, then sees his mother and Lady Ji watching him expectantly out the corner of his eye. Makkachin rubs up against his leg, trotting out of the parlor room and towards the front door.

Wordlessly, Victor turns on his heel. With his left hand, he gestures for Guang-Hong to follow.

Thankfully, Makkachin _does_ need to relieve herself after Victor already pestered her from her sleep. She wanders over to a tree, nearly lost to the darkness if it weren’t for her footfalls in the grass aiding Victor in knowing which direction she has strayed.Across the lake, the Katsuki household is in darkness. Victor’s heart immediately yearns for Yuuri’s scent, his touch, his voice, his _everything_.

Another burst of daffodils gets caught on the wind, and Victor sees Guang-Hong fisting the front of his dress, legs tight together though in a reticent stance.“Are you alright?” Victor asks when the flush of Guang-Hong’s skin is visible even in the darkness of night.

“I-“ Guang-Hong’s voice is meek and innocent. He doesn’t look Victor in the eye as he speaks. “I’ve never been this close to an alpha by myself,” he admits. Victor coughs, willing his pheromones down and his want of another omega so as to not stimulate the one at his side.

“Sorry. If you’re overwhelmed, you’re more than welcome to return inside—“

“N-No. It’s quite alright, Mr. Nikiforov,” Guang-Hong assures. His grip at the front of his dress eases, and he smooths out the wrinkles one again. “I must admit that this entire situation is _all_ overwhelming, but I will learn how to take this all in stride so as to not be a hindrance.”

Victor ‘ah’s. He goes back to staring at the lake and waiting for Makkachin’s return.

“…It is a bit sudden, though,” the alpha mumbles under his breath. “I’ve barely even met you, let alone courted you.”

Guang-Hong must take this as a negative observation, since he further bows his head and his shoulders droop in an apologetic manner.

“My family and I are only visiting for a short while. Just until my father settles matters concerning my grandfather’s estate. I’m sorry, Mr. Nikiforov. I didn’t mean to be an inconvenience to you—“

“You’re not,” Victor says, when in actuality, Guang-Hong _is_. He rubs his jaw, glancing over his shoulder when he hears Makkachin moving quickly in the grass. He sees her form running frantically back and forth. She must have discovered a squirrel.

“My mother has spoken fondly of you and your mother,” Guang-Hong offers. “She…um…she made us seem like our union would be a nice thing.”

Victor has no doubts that their mothers are giggling like young girls in the parlor. He bets the moment he steps in through the door, his mother will start pestering him for a date to set for the wedding.

“What do you think?” Victor asks, looking at Guang-Hong with a raised eyebrow. “You’re young. Do you _really_ wish to be married so soon? Especially to someone that is ten years your senior?”

Guang-Hong finally looks Victor in the eye, wide and astonished. His eyes are like shinny copper pennies. There’s no hidden allure to them like the cognac shade of Yuuri’s eyes, nothing Victor can get drunk off of.

“What…do _I_ think?”

“That’s right.”

“…You wish to know _my_ opinion?”

“…Yes?”

Guang-Hong holds his face, overcome with the option of _opinions_. “O-Oh, well. Um. It’s…um…I don’t really — well, you _are_ handsome like Mother said—“ Guang-Hong hides his face into his palms, tips of his ears burning scarlet. It’s a similar flustered reaction that Yuuri gives, though when Yuuri does it, something salacious from Victor’s mouth either follows it or precedes it.

Guang-Hong most likely would faint were Victor to even _hint_ at propositioning him.

“There are other alpha lads that are around your age. Have you been to the city? To the country club?” Victor questions.

“N-No! Of course not! It…it isn’t _proper_ of an omega to venture to the city or the country club on their own without an escort, and Mother most surely would not want me to waste my time where something… _prurient_ might occur.”

“The country club? _’Prurient’?_ ”

“Don’t—“ Guang-Hong suddenly checks a glance over his shoulder towards the front door, before he turns to Victor and asks in a low whisper, “Don’t alphas invite prostitutes to the country club to do some… _things?_ ”

“ _No._ ” Now it is Victor’s turn to look astonished at Guang-Hong. “Where did you even _hear_ such a thing?”

“My mother said that a proper omega has no business fraternizing with groups of alphas at the country club. And, well back home, groups of alphas enjoy inviting prostitutes to… _entertain_ them.” Guang-Hong’s eyes widen even further, bringing his hands to his shocked lips. “B-But! I am not implying that _you_ engage in such behaviors, Mr. Nikiforov! You’re very much a gentleman!”

“…Uh, thank you.” Victor goes back to looking for Makkachin. The poodle has still not yet succeeded in her impromptu chase of the squirrel. “We only drink and play faro at the country club,” Victor further explains. “That’s it.”

“Oh.” Guang-Hong nods. Then, “What’s faro?”

Victor brings a hand to his eyes. _Good Lord_ , he thinks as his nostrils flare with his heavy sigh, _what has she gotten me into?_

Makkachin eventually trots over to rub against Victor’s leg, before barking and heading back up the steps to the front door. Victor gestures for Guang-Hong to go first, and the two walk side by side in unsynchronized steps.

“Um, Mr. Nikiforov?” Guang-Hong speaks before Victor can open the door. Victor looks at the omega out the corner of his eye, hand braced on the knob.

Guang-Hong has his eyes shyly averted, hands properly resting in front of him. “I…I understand that you are less than enthusiastic about our coupling,” he murmurs. “But…I promise that I will do my best to make you happy as your spouse, if you will have me.”

He says that last part as though it were a suggestion. As though to say that Victor may have any choice of omega aside from Guang-Hong, and he will not at all be saddened by the rejection. Victor’s mind wanders to Yuuri. He thinks of the letter that he still needs to pen.

“…Yes, of course,” Victor murmurs, and escorts Guang-Hong and Makkachin back inside.

Lady Ji and Guang-Hong leave at ten. Victor’s mother does not stop pestering Victor — ‘do you like him? do you think he likes you? oh, but you’ll learn to love each other, won’t you? and did you see how _beautiful_ his walk is?’ — until eleven.

Victor starts on the letter, writes for as long as he has light from a candle to burn. When he has filled the page with his prose, his words, his unbridled love for Yuuri Katsuki, he snuffs out the light, undresses, and gets beneath the covers.

His bed is cold, unnecessarily large.

Victor strokes the side of it with the flat of his palm, tracing an outline of the person he wants to hold to his side the most.

* * *

“I have a problem, my friend.”

Christophe looks at Victor over the rim of his eyeglasses. “Is it a genuine problem? Or a Mr. Katsuki problem?”

Victor frowns. Then, “It’s both.”

“Ah.” Christophe abandons his sheet music sprawled out over his writing desk, turning towards his friend that is lounging on the chaise with Madonna purring contently on his lap. “What seems to be the problem?”

Victor’s hand goes through the cat’s silky fur, not quite the same as petting Makkachin, but still alleviates the bit of stress he feels itching at the base of his spine. “My mother arranged a marriage to an omega. He’s — he’s practically a _child_ still, yet she’s _so insistent_ that he is the perfect fiancé for me.”

“Hmm.”

“And I’m still wild for Mr. Katsuki. I’ve confessed my desire to court him, but he seems wary of my chances of doing so. And then there’s the matter of _Cao Bin_ —“

“He’s cooled down since you’ve accosted him at the poker game,” Christophe brings up. “It seems time brought clarity towards how big of an ass he was making himself. I’m sure he’ll watch his tongue from here on out.”

Victor grunts. It wasn’t like he cared much for the crassness of Bin’s tongue, only that that tongue spake crass things about _Yuuri_.

“Who is the omega that your mother is forcing upon you?” Christophe inquires, turning his attention back to his sheet music, dipping his pen back into the well of ink. “Someone Alain might know?”

“Doubtful. Apparently, he and his family are visiting to arrange matters with his grandfather’s estate. But his mother and mine have been friendly with each other since childhood.” Victor sighs, scratching Madonna behind her ears as she turns her head with the curve of his palm. “He’s…very inexperienced with alphas.”

“Aren’t all omegas?”

 _Not Yuuri_.

“You could always refuse it,” Christophe says with a shrug. “In the end, you _are_ the alpha of the household.”

“I do not wish to hurt her feelings,” Victor murmurs. Under his breath, he adds, “This wouldn’t be the first time an alpha rejected her ‘perfect omega’ idea.”

Christophe hums. The scribbling of his pen against the paper follows.

“You will hurt the feelings more of that poor omega if you allow him to go through with this when you are merely lukewarm, my friend,” the alpha kindly chides.

To that, Victor has no response.

* * *

Yuuri’s aunt does not leave when Yuuri said she would.

Victor visits the Katsuki household in the evening only to catch Ms. Katsuki in the midst of packing her things. She smells in pre-rut, and the scent is nearly strong enough to chase Victor down the porch and back across the lake from whence he came. It only bolsters when she catches him looming in the doorway of the parlor room, the servant that let him enter standing nervously at his side.

“ _What_ are you doing here?” the woman bites.

“I came to speak with Yuuri regarding assistance with a letter,” Victor answers, as truthfully as he will allow the response to be. Ms. Katsuki’s eyes narrow sharply at the servant, who hurries out of the doorway with a scared squeak.

“I’m sure your mother can hold your hand while you write your letter, Nikiforov. Leave.”

“It will only be for a short moment. I am surely not interrupting your packing by speaking to your nephew—“

“Your presence is a _bother_ ,” she spits, and the pheromones hit Victor square in the nose as she takes a threatening step forward. “ _Leave_.”

Victor swallows, resisting the urge to bare his teeth. “I _said_ it will only be for a short moment,” he chokes out, palms sweaty and hackles rising. He shuffles over to a chair and sits down. The smell of Ms. Katsuki becomes absolutely _putrid_.

“If you do not remove yourself from my furniture _this instant_ —“

“What is going on?” Yuuri’s voice floats into Victor’s ears like a song on the breeze, and he immediately rises to his feet.

Yuuri stands in the doorway with his hands over his nose and mouth, brows furrowed and expression looking absolutely _sickened_. “It smells _horrid_. What are you two even _doing?_ ”

“What is this _business_ you have with _him_ about a letter?” Ms. Katsuki sharply asks. Yuuri blinks, then looks to Victor.

“He…um…he was curious about some stationary I’ve acquired. Forgive me, Aunt Rei, but it must have slipped my mind that I invited him over to peruse my collection,” Yuuri says, bowing his head. Ms. Katsuki’s pheromones dim by only a smidge, still on guard and still having her teeth partially bared.

“You know I said no visitors—“

“Yes, I know. I apologize. I’ll escort him to the door—“

“He can escort _himself_.”

Yuuri does not lift his head to defy the cutting tone of his aunt’s words.

Ms. Katsuki turns to Victor, wildly gesturing with her hand towards the front door. “You’ll be leaving now.”

Victor bites the inside of his cheek.

“…Alright then,” he mutters under his breath, the stench of Ms. Katsuki’s annoyance wrinkling his nose. He rises to his feet and steps away from the chair towards the front door. But as he passes Yuuri in the doorway, the omega suddenly jolts to the right to carelessly bump into Victor’s side.

“Oh!” Yuuri cries out, and his eyes are wide with shock and a blush uncharacteristically jumps onto his round cheeks. “Oh, please do forgive me, Mr. Nikiforov. I didn’t mean to get in your way—“

Victor hesitates to respond, not sure what game Yuuri is playing at and feeling Ms. Katsuki’s eyes boring a hole into the back of his skull.

“It’s…alright?”

“But I have wrinkled your suit,” Yuuri says, stepping close, eyes shining and a worried pout on his lips. “Please, at least allow me to fix it for you.”

Behind Victor, Ms. Katsuki gives a distasteful growl. “Nevermind that, Yuuri!” she snaps as the front of Yuuri’s hands gently slide up the front of Victor’s chest. Victor stills his breath, only hoping the thud of his heart isn’t as noticeable beneath Yuuri’s palm. Yuuri looks up at Victor through the sweep of his black eyelashes, and gone away is the nervous and fretting omega mask he wore only seconds before.

There is a faint rustle of paper that Victor hears in his ears. There is a light touch of Yuuri’s fingers that dip into the collar of his button shirt, and when they are removed, a feeling of a small paper square discreetly tucked against his collar bone.

“There,” Yuuri murmurs, breathless, lightly dragging his hands back down Victor’s chest, careful with his wrists as to not scent the alpha. “You look better.”

Victor does not want to think that the way Yuuri pulls away from him is reluctant. He does not want to think about how he smells honey and sugar as Yuuri drifts back up to the stairs like it is an invitation to follow. He does not want to think about how he is _burning_ to wander after Yuuri wherever the omega should go, how his mouth is watering for just one small taste of that _scent_ —

“Get out.”

A hand grabs him by the back of his neck, shoving him forward as he stumbles to the door by the strength and force behind him. He barely gets the door open before Ms. Katsuki pushes him through the doorway and he falls to his knees on the front porch.

Victor turns, teeth bared and curse ready on his tongue, but all he catches is the furious gleam in the alpha’s eyes before he is met with the door slamming in his face.

He sits on the porch in the darkness, trying to calm his harsh breathing as he reaches into the collar of his shirt where Yuuri’s fingers lingered, and pulls from the spot the white square of paper. It’s hard to read in the darkness and with squinting eyes, but Victor is able to make out an address, along with a small message underneath.

_In five days, come to my window._

_Yuuri_

Victor staggers to his feet, glancing up at one of the second floor windows. The darkness does not at all hinder him from seeing Yuuri peering at him behind the curtain, though it does well to hide Yuuri’s expression.

Without thinking, Victor brings the note to his lips as his eyes lock on Yuuri’s figure and kisses it.

For a moment, Yuuri does nothing, and Victor wonders if the omega can even see him, see how positively _smitten_ Victor is with him.

Then, Yuuri takes the tips of his fingers to his mouth and holds them there for a breath, before he presses his fingers against the window.

Victor’s heart soars. It sings.

In two days, Victor has two letters written for one of the servants to take to post. In the exchange, they hand him the daily mail just before they leave with a curt bow. The first letter on top of the stack is from Guang-Hong, Victor knowing so just from the faintness of the omega’s scent where his name is signed in a beautiful cursive hand.

Victor swallows and discards the letter on the tray, hand feeling as though he touched fire.

There are the letters for his mother from her society friends that he files separately, some others from distant family members inquiring on how they are fairing and —aggravatingly— interested if Victor has _finally_ acquired a spouse. He sorts each envelope he turns through, disinterested with them all, until he reaches the last letter.

It has been some time since Victor has received a letter from his father. Normally, his mother would destroy them before they could ever reach his desk.

Victor wanders to his study as he opens the envelope with his finger, careful not to tear it wide and spill the money tucked between the envelope and the letter. He seats himself at his desk, two pieces of stationery for two more letters to the Katsuki household in Hasetsu waiting to be penned resting at the side of his elbow.

 _Dear Vitya_ , his father’s letters always start, _I think about you and your mother constantly. Just as I do so, I always try to think of how I can possibly beg you both for forgiveness for what I’ve done._

_You are no longer the young boy that I left all those years ago, and I can only assume that now, your mother is seeking out someone’s hand for you to take in matrimony. My advice is worthless, I’m sure you will believe. But I still wish to offer some words, if you will be willing to listen._

_I know you’ve grown into a better man than I. So I know that you will find someone that you love with every fiber of your being on the first try. I cannot explain how you would know such a thing, but I beg of you to not force it to come when you place the ring on someone you only feel obligated to marry._

_Every day, I wish that I could go back in time and undo my mistakes. Your mother deserved someone that loved her, someone that could be everything she wanted and someone that she could give every piece of herself to. I do not regret that our union produced you, however. You have always been the brightest moment in that troubled past I foolishly created._

_I have enclosed some money I hope would help provide for you and your mother for this month. When I believe it may be dwindling, I will not hesitate to send more. Though, I am only sure you are quite skilled in maintaining your finances and frugality. You were a bright child, and you surely are now a respectable man._

_I love you dearly._

_Papa_

“Oh, you got the mail! Did you see that Guang-Hong wrote you? Are you going to write to him? Oh, he’s such a _darling_ boy, isn’t he, Victor? Such pretty skin and such a tender voice,” his mother’s voice loudly squeals when she bursts into Victor’s study with no warning. Victor jumps in his chair, immediately taking his father’s letter to hurriedly throw into the drawer of his desk where it will be mixed in with papers and old journals.

His mother blinks at him, cocking her head to the side. “Something the matter, dear?”

“N-No. Nothing, Mother.”

“Are you going to write to Guang-Hong before you read his letter? It only makes sense to send a note as a thank you for him keeping you in his thoughts, the darling boy. Will you go and see him? If you intend to court him, you should spend as much time with him as possible, don’t you think?”

 _I do not_ ** _want_** _to court him_ , Victor hisses aloud in his mind. His lips grumble an “I suppose.”

The furrow of his mother’s brows appear at the sound of his tone. “You do not like him?” she then questions. Victor has trouble looking at her, so he instead focuses his attention on the corner of his desk where a bit of the white varnish is beginning to chip.

“…It’s just sudden, isn’t it? And he’s young, Mother. _Very_ young. He doesn’t know much about the world and…well, I just feel uncomfortable having him as a spouse.”

“What does he need to ‘know’ about the world? What does that even mean?” She’s on the defensive. Victor can’t excuse this conversation even if he tried.

“Maybe knowing what ‘faro’ is could be an excellent starting point,” Victor says with a laugh that comes out haughtier than he would have intended.

There is a pause of silence.

“…Because he doesn’t know the things that Mr. _Katsuki_ knows, you wish to dissolve what is a _perfect_ arrangement?” his mother suddenly asks, and Victor does his best to keep the gasp of shock trapped behind his twisting lips.

“I didn’t bring up Mr. Katsuki—“

“But Mr. Katsuki was the _only_ omega you inquired about to me. Not to mention that you disappeared some few nights ago only to shortly return smelling all frazzled. Where else would you have gone to get riled up like that if not over to _his_ home…and _what_ were you doing there in the first place?”

Victor dabs at the side of his temple with the back of his hand. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I could have stubbed my toe on a rock and became vexed from that. Or Makkachin could have done something that caused me ire. Why would you think—“

“Don’t you _dare_ lie to me.” Victor’s mother voice does not raise in volume, but it is that cold and steely monotone that causes Victor’s stomach to drop. “I hate liars. You are _not_ a liar, and you would _not_ do something that would hurt me like _lying_ to me.”

There are words unspoken from her mouth, but when Victor abandons his fixed gaze upon the corner of his desk to meet the blue of his mother’s eyes, he sees them there, drowning. _I hate liars like your father. You are not a liar like your father. You would not do something that would hurt me like your_ ** _father_** _._

“…I only went to inquire about a letter,” Victor truthfully admits.

“A letter about what?”

“A letter to his mother and father in Hasetsu. I wished for their address.”

“And _why_ would you need their address—“

“Because I wish to ask for their permission to _court him!_ ” Victor doesn’t mean for the truth to come out so quickly and so soon. But it already screams from his chest before he has the cognizance to change it to a lie at the very last second. And as he watches the expression on his mother’s face change from cold anger to disgust, he sincerely regrets not doing so.

“You wish to _what?_ ”

“I…I wish to court him, Mother…I have feelings for him—“

“No you don’t. What you feel is lust. There’s a difference—“

“What do _you_ know about how I’m feeling about him—”

“Because that’s what _all_ you alphas feel towards any omega that walks and _looks_ the way he looks at you!” his mother snaps harshly. “You must think of me as some fool not to know the kind of omega _he_ is. A fake, just someone _pretending_ to know propriety in order to seduce someone of wealthier status and climb even higher—“

“He’s not like that.” Victor rises to his feet, though his legs feel shaky under his mother’s piercing gaze. “He doesn’t care for things like wealth and status or propriety—“

“Because he’s nothing but some middle-class whelp that gets dressed up in tacky dresses and forced upon the respectable alphas and well-bred omegas by his overbearing aunt!” Then, with extra venom, she gives a scoff. “I doubt he has even managed to retain his purity. He walks too loosely for that.”

“Mother.” Victor’s voice drops low to a threatening growl, the alpha within him compelled to defend the only being that matters. “Stop it.”

The color drains temporarily from the omega’s face. Then, she brings a hand to her mouth, and begins to sniffle.

“I don’t understand,” she says wetly, shaking her head. “I don’t _understand_. I thought that I raised you well to value a proper omega. All those lessons you’ve took to properly court and treat an omega, and you wish to squander them on _ilk_.”

“Mother—“

“All I wanted was for you to have the _best_ , Vitya. You are so _smart_ and so _handsome_ and so _kind_ , you only deserve the best. Everything that I’ve _done_ for you, I did it because I love you and want you to be _happy_. But now, you’re treating me like I’m some awful _nuisance_.”

“M-Mother, that’s not what—“

“So is this it, then? You’ll refuse my wishes to make yourself happy? You’ll abandon me like your father abandoned _us_ to chase after some omega that _walks_ and _talks_ and _looks_ like some… _some…_ ” Victor’s mother doesn’t manage to choke out the words she means to say; she immediately collapses on the chaise in Victor’s study to sob into her hands.

Victor crumbles in an instant.

“Mother, _please_.” He goes to his knees at her side, resting his hand carefully in the mass of silver ringlets. She turns away from him, sobbing madly and skin flushed an aggravated red.

“I just want you to be a _good_ husband to a nice and _proper_ omega! And Guang-Hong is _such_ a sweet boy. He’s so nice and polite and I _know_ he can make you happy. But you won’t even give him the chance to love you properly, you’re just concerned with something that is _carnal_ and _won’t last_. Why? Why do you alphas wish to throw away something that is _perfect_? Something you _already have?_ ”

Victor doesn’t have the words to answer her. He knows these aren’t for him.

She sobs and sobs and Victor continues to kneel at her side and let the wailing eat away at him. He has always abhorred his mother crying for this very reason. Once she starts to sob, she doesn’t stop until Victor is helplessly begging her to.

He does not know for how long she cries, only that it is when there is a nasty burning in his thighs and he has one hand tightly fisted in the ruffles of his mother’s dress that her sobbing weakens to a gentle whimper.

“Please,” Victor says, and his voice is shaky, “please, no more.”

She looks him in the eye, hers still filled with tears daring to fall if he does not choose his next words wisely.

“…I just want the best for you, Vitya. Don’t you know that?”

“I do.”

“It may be sudden, but don’t you believe in seizing the chance when such a wonderful opportunity has opened itself to you?”

“…Yes, Mother.”

“And Guang-Hong is _such_ a sweet boy. Such an _innocent_ boy with a good heart. Surely you can learn to love him over time if you give him the chance, can’t you? And show him how to be a good husband to you when you are married?”

“…Yes, Mother…”

She wipes her cheeks, makeup staining her fingers. “Oh, I _hate_ looking like this in front of you, Vitya,” she bemoans. Victor reaches into the pocket of his waistcoat for his handkerchief, handing it to her so she may wipe her face and blow her nose. Behind his handkerchief, he sees her smile. “You’re such a kind man, Vitya. You’ll be such a wonderful husband. You’ll be a _better_ husband.”

Victor doesn’t dare speak another word.

* * *

In the dark of his bedroom — long after what has transpired with his mother, after the letter to Guang-Hong was sealed in a teal blue envelope and rushed out the door by another servant at the giddy request of his mother — Victor finds his hand beginning to wander past the brim of his smallclothes.

His eyes are tightly closed as he takes hold of his cock, warm and not yet hard in his hold. Can Guang-Hong do such a thing as this? Could Victor even _tell_ him to hold him like this?

Victor turns onto his side, his bedsheets going askew over his form as he begins to pump his length. His breathing is steady and hot against the cotton of his pillow sheet, willing himself to hardness and feeling the head of his cock beginning to drip with want.

He supposes Guang-Hong would behave as omegas do from the lessons Victor was taught in school and in Victor’s books. Guang-Hong would be endearingly naive to the entire ordeal, so Victor would need to be gentle with him, the instinct of an alpha awakening within him to protect his mate and treat them with fragile care. Nothing too stimulating to overwhelm, or too vulgar as if Victor would treat his spouse the same way he would treat a whore, and only in the comfort of their chambers so as not to pervert other spaces unsuitable for such an act.

The books warned of a possibility of an omega crying when an alpha fills them for the first time. Of pain or of pleasure, the book never specified. As he swells in his fist, Victor wonders if Guang-Hong would cry were Victor to only tease the tip of his cock against the omega’s sex. Would Victor be able to comfort him though it? Would he be in a frozen panic as he was with his mother’s crying?

…Did Yuuri cry when he lost his virginity?

A sigh shudders from his lips and his hand squeezes his cock tight. _Yuuri..._

Victor knows he’d be so gentle with Yuuri. He _knows_ he wants to have Yuuri in every room on every square inch of furniture he owns, and would even purchase brand new sets if only to slowly take Yuuri apart on their surface. He’d savor the push of his cock into Yuuri’s cunt, he’d relish how wet Yuuri would be around his knot, how warm Yuuri would be when Victor fills him with his seed.

_Does it bother you? That I’m not a virgin?_

No, no it doesn’t. It only makes Victor hungrier for the moment where _his_ name is the one that leaves Yuuri’s parted lips. Because in the dark, as Victor growls into the cotton of his pillow as he wildly ruts into his half-closed fist, it is Yuuri’s name that leaves his mouth when the climax hits. It is Yuuri’s body he wishes to have going slack against him, and not his bedsheets that are only growing wrinkled.

He lays there in the dark, his spent drying between his thighs. The curtains of his bedroom window are parted for a sliver of moonlight to ghost over his form. In the distance, there is a single light illuminated in one of the Katsuki’s windows.

It hurts to want. It hurts to want and to feel shame in wanting.

Victor closes his eyes tight. Eventually, that begins to hurt too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok THIS TIME i swear the chapter count won't go up any higher no more!!!!


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